


I'll Be Seeing You

by PoorQueequeg



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-01
Updated: 2011-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-26 18:38:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 20,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoorQueequeg/pseuds/PoorQueequeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One lifetime together is hard enough, no matter how much you might love each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story spans several decades and the chapters are divided up accordingly. Some chapters seem relatively short while others are quite long. I hope the format does not prove too confusing and that you can stick with it till the end. Feedback is loved as always, hope you enjoy.
> 
> "I'll be seeing you in all the old familiar places  
> That this heart of mine embraces all day through  
> In that small cafe, the park across the way  
> The children's carousel, the chestnut trees, the wishing well
> 
> I'll be seeing you in every lovely summer's day  
> In everything that's light and gay  
> I'll always think of you that way  
> I'll find you in the morning sun  
> And when the night is new  
> I'll be looking at the moon  
> But I'll be seeing you"

Grande Marina, Capri, 1949

 

Helen was grateful for the shade of the canvas awnings as she weaved through the crowds of the fish market on the marina. It was just past ten in the morning but the sun was already growing uncomfortably warm. The air was filled with the aroma of the sea and the loud drum of pressurised water on wood as the vendors hosed down the empty crates, the best of the day's catch long since snapped up by eager chefs and housewives. She passed an old woman waving a handful of tatty banknotes at a ragged looking fisherman holding an enormous octopus in his hands, its tentacles swinging about and slapping against the wooden crate beside him as they argued over the price.

Helen stepped around them and trotted down a creaking wooden jetty, tugging her wide brimmed hat down to shield her face from the glare of the sun. At the end of the pontoon she was met by a shaggy looking man in his forties who turned to her with a friendly smile.

“Doctor!” he called as he saw her approach and Helen grinned at him broadly.

“Enzo, oh are you a sight for sore eyes,” she told him in perfect Italian, stooping down as he planted loud, affectionate kisses on her cheeks. “It's been an absolute bloody nightmare since you left.”

“Ah do not worry any longer, my dear doctor,” Enzo told her reassuringly in a heavy dialect unintelligible to most foreigners. “Now I am back I am sure we will take care of whatever disaster has occurred.”

“Did you get what we were after?” she asked, peering over his shoulder at the men shifting crates around in the boat behind him. Enzo turned to look in the same direction, scratching his scruffy beard and looking serious.

“More or less, you know how it is in Naples these days but...” Enzo gave a mild shrug and a cheeky pout. Helen's lips curved up in a sceptical smile.

“But you have a cousin whose wife has a brother whose neighbour knows someone...” she drawled in a mildly disapproving tone. Enzo's smile grew wider and he raised his hands in a gesture of ignorance. “Hmmm yes I think perhaps you better keep it to yourself Enzo.”

“What the eye doesn't see the heart doesn't grieve over,” he told her sagely and patted her arm before stepping onto the gangplank and chivalrously offering her his hand. Helen shook her head and smiled as she grasped it, following him on board.

An hour or so later and the majority of Enzo's haul was stacked onto the back of a rusty old truck while the smaller items were loaded into Helen's car. Enzo argued loudly with his cousin before the pair of them bid her farewell and climbed into the cab, the engine sputtering loudly as they pulled away. She stood in front of the hood of her car for a moment and watched as the truck moved off to make the trip over the island towards the villa, wincing at the crunch of the gears as it bounced along the dusty road.

Helen let out a sigh and smacked her lips, turning to walk down the cracked stone towards a small cafe as the whine of a motorcycle engine filled her ears. Inside she bought a bottle of water and stood for a long time by a grubby old fan, grateful for the weak breeze it generated while she drank. She watched the last few stragglers on the dock, most people having gone inside to seek shelter from the midday sun. Ships littered the horizon, the traffic from the mainland steadily increasing as the weeks went by, the wartime restrictions gradually forgotten and life returned to something close to normal.

Helen stood for a long time watching the boats, idly peeling the label off the bottle on the bar before her, lost in thought. She started when the barista emptied an ashtray into the trash, the edge clanging loudly against the metal rim and her eyes went wide when she looked down at her watch. She dropped some money onto the counter and turned out of the door, walking along under the shade of the awnings that hung from the front of the stores on the promenade towards the car. Two scruffy looking men without shirts were hauling huge blocks of ice from the back of a truck through an open shopfront, leaving a dark wet trail on the stone floor. Helen flicked her hair over her shoulder and ignored the playful catcalls they threw at her as she passed, her heels clicking loudly on the pavement.

 

She had just reached the car when a voice called out. “Helen!” She froze and lifted her head to gaze across the promenade. A few yards away a suited figure stood against the sea wall, leaning heavily on a cane. She looked at him intently for a moment until he smiled beneath his sunglasses and began to walk towards her with a pronounced limp. As he drew nearer Helen pulled her sunglasses off and tilted her head to one side, her mouth dropping open slightly in surprise. She walked around the front of the car towards him. “It is you!” the man exclaimed.

“Oh my goodness,” Helen said, a timid smile spreading across her face as he paused in the middle of the road to let a car pass. Helen took in the familiar profile as he looked up and down the street before stepping forward and stopping in front of her.

“As I live and breath, it is the one and only Helen Magnus,” he told her playfully, pulling off his shades and looking her right in the eye. Helen's breath hitched a little under his stare, memories bubbling to the surface at the sight of his piercing blue eyes.

“Freddie Sacksville-West, what on earth?” Helen shook her head in disbelief. “Well isn't this a surprise?”

“I'll say! I wasn't sure it was you at first. You've changed you hair!” Helen dropped her gaze bashfully and pushed an errant brunette lock across her face.

“Oh yes,” she chuffed. “I just...thought it was time for a change.” Freddie smiled at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Well it looks....stunning, really. You look wonderful Helen, if it wasn't for the hair I'd swear you haven't changed a bit.” Helen didn't reply, not quite sure how to respond and they stood in an awkward silence for a moment. “So,” she said with a mild cough a minute later. “What brings you back here?”

“Oh, mother. She wanted to come and see the damage first hand. You?” he asked in a friendly tone.

“The same,” Helen replied. “The old place has been stripped bare, everything, they even took the carpets!” Freddie chuckled and nodded in understanding. “Still we're quite lucky really, you know Enzo Casolla? He took the title over for us when they started confiscating foreigners' property but even so, he was with the partisans on the mainland and....” she trailed off, conscious of his appraising stare and coughed lightly.

Freddie nodded and looked away. “We're staying up in Anacapri now. Our place was taken over when Jerry garrisoned the island, took quite a bit of damage. ” He shifted his feet and his cane scraped across the stone beneath. Helen couldn't help her eyes from dropping down. Freddie let out a chuff of breath and smiled but she could see the strain behind it.

“Yes and you too it would seem,” she said gently. Freddie turned to look up the street and let out a short bark of laughter.

“Bloody Jap skewered me with his bayonet,” he told her in a teasing tone but Helen could sense the bitterness in him. Helen gave him a sympathetic look.

“I'm sorry.”

“Oh don't you be sorry, least I made it back,” Freddie said in that flat,muted voice of someone who had seen horrors beyond imagining. “Well, it's wonderful to see you. Won't you let me buy you lunch?” Helen smiled and shook her head gently.

“Oh Freddie, I....I'd really like to but I've really got to get this lot back to the villa.” She gestured at the cans of paint stacked up on the back seat of the car. When she looked back at him he was gazing at her forlornly. Helen swallowed and pushed away the tight knot that had started to twist in her gut.

“A drink then?” he asked in a soft, pleading tone. Helen stared back at him and felt a trickle of sweat run down between her shoulder blades, her eyelashes fluttering as she forced herself to look away. “Please?”

“Freddie,” she began, her voice wavering a little. “I....really I can't.” His face fell and he looked away, his lips pursed. “James is expecting me.” Freddie let out a little huff and raised his chin, a strained smile across his face.

“I see,” he answered. The stood for a moment in silence and Helen blinked back the wave of emotion that threatened to break through her reserve. “Well it was good to see you again.”

“You too. Take care of yourself.” Helen touched her hand briefly on his arm before turning and walking towards the driver's side of the car. Freddie shuffled onto the pavement and returned the little wave she gave as the car pulled away and stood watching the car from the side of the dusty road until it disappeared from sight.


	2. Chapter 2

Mayfair, London, April 1921

“Helen, darling! So glad you could come!” Helen smiled and embraced her hostess fondly, the smell of gin filling her nostrils. The sound of a piano playing and the hubbub of chatter drifted down the hall.

“I always try to make time for old friends Audrey,” Helen replied sweetly as she straightened up. “This is my good friend Nikola Tesla. Nikola this is Audrey Sacksville-West.”

“Oh charmed I'm sure,” Audrey gushed holding out her hand and smiling graciously although she didn't give any indication of recognising the name. Nikola pouted for a second but on meeting Helen's stern look put on his most charming smile and reached forward to kiss the back of her glove before straightening up.

“A pleasure,” he drawled, giving Helen a sideways smirk and Audrey giggled inanely.

“I'm so very glad you could come. It feels like I've been working on these pieces forever, I'm just dying to show them off!” she told Helen excitedly.

“I'm sure they're wonderful,” Helen replied, turning and pushing her arms out behind her back as Nikola peeled her coat from her shoulders. Audrey plucked it from his hands and shoved it to into the waiting arms of a maid in a lace apron who had appeared as if from nowhere behind her.

“Won't you come into the salon and we'll get you something to drink,” Audrey asked, waving towards the door behind her, ash dropping from the end of the long cigarette holder in her hand. Nikola smiled and placed his hand on the small of Helen's back.

“Spiffing,” he crooned sarcastically.

 

“Where ever do you find these people?” Nikola whispered into her ear a little while later. They were standing at the back of the gathered bodies as Audrey discussed primitivism in one of her paintings. Helen could not suppress a chuckle as she gesticulated melodramatically to the fawning acolytes and assorted bright young things seated before her.

“Her husband was great supporter of my work,” Helen told him quietly, raising her glass to her lips and taking a long drink. “He made a fortune manufacturing scientific equipment before the war.” Nikola nodded and turned his face back to the spectacle before them.

“And after?” he enquired, plucking a fresh glass of wine from a tray as one of the servants glided elegantly by.

“He was killed at Ypres,” she told him in a flat tone, staring ahead and Nikola licked his lips and regarded her with a smirk.

“I see,” he said after a moment. “So you kept up your courtship of the widow instead. You always were a very shrewd businesswoman Helen.” She turned and glared at him.

“You don't have to make it sound so sordid, Nikola. Audrey might be a little...” she hesitated and let her gaze flick towards their hostess for a moment. “...whimsical but she's been very generous and she does a lot for women's suffrage besides.”

Nikola chuckled. “Should I expect to have to carry one of those monstrosities all the way home then?” he asked, tilting his head towards the centre of the room as Audrey moved away from the portrait towards a somewhat avant-garde piece of sculpture.

“Oh really Nikola,” Helen chastised and Nikola began to laugh heartily as her expression morphed from sour to saccharine and she raised her glass to the smiling face of their hostess, who beamed back at them in delight. Nikola took advantage of her distraction to slip his arm about her waist and squeezed her hip, smirking at the way she started at his touch. She glowered at him fiercely.

“Did I tell you you look beautiful tonight?” he said contritely and Helen shook her red hair out of her eyes and sipped her drink with a sceptical look on her face. Nikola grinned. “I'm not the only one who's noticed,” he whispered conspiratorially in her ear and she looked up to see him gesture with his chin across the room. Helen turned her head to see a teenage boy gazing at her across the grand piano. When she caught his eye he turned away abruptly, staring ahead to watch Audrey intently as she described the influence of Native American totems on her sculpture. Nikola chuckled beside her.


	3. Chapter 3

Capri 1934.

 

“You've really done wonderful things Audrey, you are to be congratulated,” Helen said, peering over the metal railing on the balcony at the view beyond.

“You should have seen the state of the place when I bought it, Helen. There wasn't even any running water, we had to trail down to a standpipe at the bottom of the garden!”

Helen met Audrey's look of horror with an amused smile and reached for her drink, the ice cubes rattling around in the glass as she lifted it off the table.

“But you know, we discovered the most wonderful marble floor in the atrium once we cleaned up all the filth and grime. A bit of care and it's come up lovely!” Audrey told her with a beaming smile. Helen let out a huff of breath and leant back in her chair, the sound of splashing water and laughter drifting up from the pool below. “Anyway, darling, you will come to my little soiree this evening won't you?” Audrey asked hopefully, resting her hand on top of Helen's.

“Oh Audrey, you know I'd like to but James....”

“Oh please Helen? I've invited all sorts and the mayor of Capri's coming.” Helen suppressed a quirk of her brow.

“Oh, really?” she said in as neutral a tone as she could muster as Audrey rattled off her guest list.

A few minutes later and they were interrupted by one of Audrey's staff, who appeared with a folded note on a small tray. “Oh for the love of God!” Audrey exclaimed as she read it.

“What is it?” Helen enquired, sipping her tonic water.

“There's a problem at the marina. You know old Clifford Montgomery?” Helen nodded vaguely. “Well he sailed into Malta last week and brought me some bits and pieces from London and now he says the harbourmaster won't let him bring half of it ashore,” Audrey explained with an exasperated sigh. Helen suppressed a chuckle and nodded sympathetically. “I'm terribly sorry Helen but I'm going to have to go down and sort this out.”

“That's quite alright, Audrey. I have to go down and meet James anyway. I'll drive you,” Helen offered setting her glass down and reaching behind her to pull her handbag from the back of the iron chair.

“Oh that would lovely!” Audrey replied happily. “Actually I could probably use your Italian, I can barely understand a word they say!” Helen let out a chuckle as Audrey pushed up from the table. “I'll just be a moment.”

Audrey turned and walked inside the house and Helen reached down to run her finger under the leather strap across her heel, resting the palm of her other hand across the table. Setting her foot back on the ground she rose from her chair and pulled her scarf from the back, turning it over in her hands as she peered over the railing to watch the people frolicking in the pool. A skinny brown haired man took a running jump, launching off the side of the pool and tucking his legs up close to his body, barrelling into the water beside two screaming twenty something females. Slightly away from them, she could make out the lean shape of a man moving frog-like under the water as he swam.

She watched as he neared the edge of the pool and climbed out, flicking a wet mop of blonde hair out of his face as he pulled himself up. Helen could not help but quirk a brow as she took in his broad chest and toned arms. He certainly was a fine specimen of the masculine form, she mused as he rubbed his face roughly with a towel, he eyes falling to the sculpted muscles of his legs. Helen rebuked herself silently but still could not help from returning his cheeky smile when he dropped the towel and looked up to find her staring.

“Alright then,” a voice drifted through the door behind her and Helen started, turning abruptly to see Audrey stepping out onto the balcony. “I do appreciate this Helen, really. Honestly, the bureaucracy in this country is out of control!I shall be sure to mention it this evening!” Helen slipped the strap of her handbag over her shoulder as Audrey moved closer. “Freddie, darling. I'm just popping down to the marina for a little while!” she called to the bronzed figure below.

“Alright mother,” Freddie replied and Helen's mouth fell open. She shut it quickly and plastered an innocent smile across her face as Audrey turned to give her a brief grin.

“You remember Dr Magnus don't you?” Freddie raised his hand in a wave and gave her a look she was certain broke the hearts of every girl on the island. “That's my little Freddie, they grow up so fast don't they?”

“They certainly do,” Helen replied as she followed her companion back inside the house.


	4. Chapter 4

London, 1921.

 

Helen scowled at her reflection as the gramophone in the corner droned, a loud tinny sound in her ears as she adjusted her slip under her dress. The glittered panels that ran down the sides shimmered as she stood upright and she turned to look at her rear in the mirror for a moment before reaching forward to touch up her lipstick.

Nikola's smirking face appeared in the doorway and Helen couldn't help but smile at his cheeky wink. “Nikola be a darling and put a sock in that would you” she asked and he began to laugh loudly as he stepped forward and stuffed James' scarf into the brass funnel of the gramophone. The music muffled and Helen sighed in relief. “That thing drives me to distraction,” she complained as she adjusted her earring.

“I'll send you one when I get back to New York,” Nikola promised, stepping closer and looking dapper with his slicked back hair and snug tuxedo. Helen met his cheeky grin in the mirror and chuffed out a breath of amusement.

“You know doll,” he drawled, his accent decidedly more American than she was used to. “You should come back with me, we'd have a ball!” Helen couldn't help but laugh as he wrapped his arm around her waist and spun them around them room in a quickstep. Helen would never admit to anyone, least of all Nikola, how her heart fluttered when he grinned and dipped her back, puckering his lips at her playfully. “Cash or check sweetheart?”

Helen gripped the lapels of his jacket and twisted her face away, blushing furiously. “Nikola, really!” she chided and he relented, pulling her upright with a mock scowl on his face.

“I even shaved my moustache but you still won't kiss me,” he complained and Helen squirmed out of his arms to walk across the room. Pulling a black feather boa from the back of a chair, she wrapped it around her neck and shook her head at him.

“You are incorrigible,” she told him and he smiled at her fondly as she walked towards the door.

“I'm serious,” he told her as he followed her out into the hall. They were met by a smartly dressed footman and Nikola took Helen's coat from him.

“Nikola you know I can't very well just up and leave at the drop of a hat,” she explained as he stood behind her and she slipped her arms into it. She turned to face him as he took his coat and scarf and shrugged them over his shoulders.

“Hmmpff” he uttered sulkily. “No, you'd rather stay here with that killjoy. My heart breaks at the thought of you surrounded by all that tweed.”

“Go and get in the cab, I'll be down in a minute,” she told him, pointing at the stairs but she could not help smiling indulgently at his retreating form as he trotted towards the door with a defeated sigh.

Helen turned along the corridor towards the study, James dulcet tones wafting down the hall. She slowed as she approached and pulled the lapels of her coat together before peering around the door – it wouldn't do for her to go in slapped up to the nines if James had company. Inside the room James was standing by a long table covered with photographs and other documents, his jacket pulled back from his waist to reveal his vest underneath, his hand on his hip. He stroked his beard with his other hand as he spoke to another suited man. He glanced up and she caught his eye.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he muttered and walked towards her, stepping out into the hall. “You're off then are you, darling?” he asked in a mild, even tone.

“Yes, Nikola's waiting in the car,” Helen explained, shifting under James' appraising stare. She quelled a flash of irritation when he made no comment, unsure if he approved of the bare calves that peeked out from under her coat. “You sure you won't join us?” James puckered his lips, his face taking on his typically thoughtful mien and he stared at the middle distance behind her.

“No, no I have too much to do Helen,” he explained in low rumbling tones and Helen swallowed, turning her head to stare at the man in his study, now hunched over the desk and peering at something intently. “Besides, you're much better at this sort of thing than me. I have no patience for these artistic types.” Helen's head snapped back and James gave her a tight smile before leaning close to place a kiss on her cheek, the hard metal plate on his chest digging into her elbow through the fabric of her coat.

She walked back down the hallway towards the stairs and inhaled loudly through her nose, steeling herself and pushing away the unpleasant feeling that sprung up in her gut. As she reached the open door, she thanked the footman and stepped onto the stone steps outside to see Nikola's playful grin waiting at the bottom, the gleam of source blood shining in his eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

Capri, 1949

 

The gravel crunched beneath Helen's feet as she walked up the driveway towards the house. She could hear voices arguing loudly and followed the stone path around the house towards the terrace that overlooked the bay. Loud sounds of hammering and sawing floated down from the scaffolding that covered the side of the building and as she reached the back of the villa she found a harried looking James standing with his hands on his hips as one of the workmen talked at him in rapid Italian, gesticulating furiously with his hands.

“Something the matter?” she asked with an amused grin and James heaved a loud sigh of relief.

“Oh Helen, thank god you're here, I can barely get a word in edgeways! This...buffoon....has disconnected the electricity and now he claims he won't be able to turn it back on until tomorrow!”

The man visibly stiffened at James words and curled his lip. “ Sta tu, chi sei il buffone!” he sneered, flicking the bottom of his chin with the back of his fingers. Helen did not need to translate and James clenched his fist and huffed a loud breath out of his nose as the other man stormed back inside the house.

“Oh James,” Helen said in an amused tone, shaking her head and smiling at him.

“Bloody marvellous,” he complained as she stepped closer and Helen pouted her lips at him mockingly.

“Poor thing, whatever are we going to do?” James shook his head and muttered under his breath. “Oh James, it's only one night. We'll just go out for dinner!” she told him.

“Honestly, I despair of this place. It's almost enough to make you want the fascists back! ” he groused. “I never thought I'd see a day when I'd actually miss Tesla.” Helen laughed as she wrapped her arm around his shoulder and ushered him inside.

 

Later Helen stood in her petticoat in front of the bathroom mirror mediating an argument between her hair and the brush in her hand. Evening was drawing in and the fading light reflected weakly off the white tiles and made everything vaguely blue. In the bedroom, James sat on the edge of the bed buttoning his shirt.

“I've no idea how long it'll take with notary,” he said and Helen straightened up and set her brush down on the tiles beside the sink. “We might not make the last boat back so if you have somewhere particular in mind you'd like to stay....”

Helen stared at her reflection and flicked her hair back from her shoulder before adjusting the strap of her bra.

“Darling?” James appeared in the doorway behind her and Helen met his eyes in the mirror.

“Hmm?” she chuffed with a small smile. James regarded her with his inquisitive stare and Helen bristled slightly. “What?”

James pursed his lips and gave an ignorant shrug before he continued. “Would you mind staying in Naples tomorrow night?” Helen turned to pull a stocking off the back of a chair and propped her foot on the seat as she pulled it up her leg. James' eyes followed her fingers as they trailed across her calf, over her knee and up the smooth expanse of her thigh and he let his tongue swipe across his lower lip.

“No, I suppose I don't mind,” Helen replied, removing her foot and repeating the process with the other leg.

“Right then,” James said and adjusted his tie as Helen took her dress from the hanger over the bathroom door and stepped into it.

“Zip me up darling,” she asked, turning her back to him and lifting her hair away from her neck. James stepped up close behind her and obliged, letting his hands come rest on her waist and squeezing gently. Helen smiled at him the mirror and he reached forward to press a gentle kiss against her neck, nuzzling her skin with the tip of his nose for a second.

“Do you want a drink?” he asked and Helen nodded.

“I'll just be a minute, I'll meet you on the terrace,” she told him and he smiled at her again before turning out of the room.


	6. Chapter 6

Grande Marina, Capri, 1934

 

“Thank you Helen, really. I don't know what we'd have done without you,” Audrey told her sincerely, fanning herself with her hat as they sat under the awning outside a cafe on the promenade.

“Yes, really Dr Magnus,” Helen turned and smiled at the ruddy, walrus countenance of Clifford Montgomery who was squeezed into a chair beside her. “The audacity of these jackbooted philistines. No decency, none at all,” he wheezed, mopping his brow with a handkerchief.

“It was no trouble really,” Helen replied absently, peering out across the street over the rim of her cup.

“I'd never have pegged you for a communist Monty,” Audrey said with a chuckle and he huffed indignantly.

“I've never been so grossly affronted in all my life!” he complained, clunking his coffee cup onto a saucer loudly. Helen chewed her lip and suppressed her amusement and was about to respond when she saw James walking along the promenade in the distance.

“Oh, do excuse me but there's James,” Helen said rising from her chair and slipping out into the pavement. She paused to let a car pass and trotted across the street towards him. He smiled when he saw her approaching. “Darling!” she greeted and he took her hand as she gave him a gentle peck on the cheek. “Thank goodness you're here, I am in need of rescuing.” James chuckled and allowed her to fold her arm around his as they walked.

“What trouble have you managed to get yourself into this time, Helen?” he asked jovially as she lead him back across the street towards the hotel.

“Oh, some old windbag that Audrey Sacksville-West knows was almost arrested for bringing anti-government literature onto the island,” she told him despairingly and James let out a loud bark of laughter.

“Really? Oh my. Might I ask the title of the offending publication?”

“Oh some ghastly tome the old fart has published, architecture of the Soviet Union,” Helen replied in an exasperated tone and James laughed.

“Oh Helen, I don't know how you put up with these people!”

“James,” she said sweetly, coming to a stop and turning to face him. James raised a brow and gave her an indulgent look at her tone.

“Helen,” he said in mock earnestness and she grinned.

“It's about Audrey's dinner party,” she began and James' shoulders sagged. “Oh no, James I know you don't want to go and frankly I am not that thrilled at the prospect myself, not since old Walrus face turned up...” James could not quell his amusement and chuckled loudly and Helen's eyes crinkled at the corners as she continued. “Thing is it would seem dear Audrey knows the mayor of Capri...” James' brows went up and he turned his face back to her, suddenly very interested. “..and I thought what with our little problem, maybe if we went along we might make his acquaintance and perhaps...”

“Persuade him to intervene on our behalf?” James finished for her. Helen nodded and regarded him gravely. “Yes I rather think that's quite a good idea. I spoke with old man Casolla you know, he's not particularly keen but his son Enzo seemed a little warmer. Actually I'm meeting him tonight, there's a boat coming in on the Piccola Marina.”

“Oh,” Helen told him gravely. “Right well...”she took a deep breath in and looked out at the sea, watching the surf break on the shingle for a moment. “Then you have to go and meet it. We have to get as many abnormals as possible to Malta before this business in Abyssinia gets out of hand.” James pursed his lips and nodded.

“And it would be a good opportunity to get Enzo on board. If we could transfer title to him...”

“Yes, yes, that's an excellent idea.” She exhaled loudly through her nose. “Right well I suppose I shall just have to handle the mayor on my own,” she said finally with a nod of her chin.

James smiled uncomfortably but did not protest.


	7. Chapter 7

Mayfair, London, 1921

 

Nikola rolled his eyes as Helen bid an obscene amount of money on one of Audrey's paintings.

“You've been had,” he whispered and she smacked him on the arm lightly.

“Actually I quite like it,” Helen told him as they crossed the floor, pressing close together as they squeezed through the crowd.

“You like hopeless cases, Helen, you can't help yourself,” Nikola explained as they reached the bar but she pretended not hear him and ordered a gin and Dubonnet instead.

“Since when were you an art critic, hmm?” she asked, looking up through her eyelashes at him as she sipped her drink. Nikola slipped his fingers around the stem of his wine glass on the counter beside her and cast an appraising eye across the room.

“You call that art?” he snorted. “My ancestors were building glittering cities when humans were smudging mud and piss on the walls of caves, I can't help it if I find it all a trifle infantile Helen.” She rolled her eyes.

“Your arrogance will never cease to astound me, Nikola,” she sighed and he smiled and leant closer.

“Coming from you I shall take that as a compliment,” he told her, his breath tickling her face. Helen shook her head.

“What are you talking about?” she said, holding her glass between them as protection as he stared at her with his usual hungry gaze. Nikola laughed and twisted his neck, flicking his eyes to the ceiling above them.

“You spend every day in the company of the most insufferable, pompous windbag ever to disgrace the earth. If I can astound you in any respect I consider it a victory,” Nikola explained in exasperated tones. Helen's mouth turned down at the corners and she stared past him at the doorway beyond.

“Honestly, Nikola, you are such a child!” she said as she locked eyes with the boy leaning against the doorframe. He held her gaze for a moment before Helen blinked rapidly and turned back to the bar, emptying her glass and setting it heavily on the counter.

“You might convince yourself you're not bored to tears by it all Helen but you can't fool me. I know you too well,” Nikola chuckled in her ear. She turned her head and looked him right in the eye with a huff.

“Care to dance?” she asked changing the subject and quirking a brow. Nikola grinned wickedly.

“Always.”

 

“Take us on a bit of a tour of the city would you,” Nikola asked the driver later as they left the party. “Maybe I want to see the sights one more time,” he said at Helen's puzzled look.

“You hate London,” she told him, shifting her legs as the painting knocked against her knees.

“That is true,” he said, shoving the offending canvas out of the way and sliding up close. “You know I only come here for you, because you're the only person in this sorry world with any sense of fun.” Helen rolled her eyes and gave him a sceptical look. “Tell me you didn't have fun?” Nikola challenged.

“Alright, alright,” Helen confessed, squashed into the back seat of the car beside him as they wound across the city. “It was fun. I had a lovely time, Nikola,” she slurred, not quite drunk but not exactly sober either. Nikola smiled. He seemed to have spent all evening smiling at her, she thought, although right now the teasing and playfulness seemed to have evaporated and what remained was of a decidedly more tender aspect.

“If you came to New York, we could go out every night,” Nikola promised as she leaned her head against the back of the seat and he did likewise.

“Hmm, I think even you would get bored of that Nikola,” she murmured and he chuckled, his eyelids fluttering.

“Not if I had you to keep me company,” he assured her. “We could do anything we wanted. We could travel the world ten times over.” It was a chilly night but he was warm and his voice was very soft and Helen closed her eyes as he leant closer and pressed his lips to hers. She let out the slightest of sighs and he kissed her more intently, his hand sliding under her coat and across her thigh as she reached up to cup his face in her hands.


	8. Chapter 8

London, Spring 1938.

Helen emerged from the manager's office and slipped on her gloves, adjusting her hat as she followed him out into the main atrium of the bank.

“Thank you very much Dr Magnus,” he told her and clasped her hand to shake it earnestly.

“No, thank you Mr Simmonds,” she replied pleasantly. “I shall see you again soon I'm sure.”

“Indeed. Geoffrey would you escort Dr Magnus...” he began, gesturing at one of the staff waiting beside a tall wooden counter.

“Really it's quite alright, there's no need,” Helen interrupted and raised her palm. “Goodbye.” Before either man could protest she trotted down the two steps into the entrance hall and made her way towards the door, oblivious to the appreciative stares she garnered from the other patrons as she went.

She reached the rotating door and stepped into the compartment as it turned, eager to be out of the stuffy interior of the bank. As she exited a man entered the door on the other side and their eyes met momentarily through the glass. Helen gave him a smile as he grinned at her, turning his head as she came out onto the stone steps outside and following the rotating door back around to step out beside her.

“Well hello,” he said congenially and Helen turned her head away and watched a bus roll by along the street below, smiling in amusement.

“Hello Freddie,” she replied indulgently.

“This is a happy accident. How are you?” Freddie said reaching down and taking her hand. Helen tried and failed not to smile at his cheeky face as he shook her hand up and down slowly.

“I'm very well thank you,” she told him, attempting to push down the flutter in her stomach as he ran his gaze up and down her appraisingly.

“Yes you look ah....wonderful, as always Helen,” Freddie said after a moment. “Business at the bank?”

“Hmm mmm,” Helen replied. “That is usually what brings one to...the Bank, Fred,” she mocked and he tilted his head and regarded her through slitted eyes.

“Quite,” he responded dryly and Helen could not suppress her chuckle. “Actually Mother mentioned you the other day, said you'd been for tea Tuesday last. I just missed you.”

“Yes, she said she was expecting you,” Helen said.

“Ah, and I suppose she told you all the sordid details?” Helen coughed lightly and pursed her lips at his sheepish expression.

“She...told me about your divorce, yes,” she said in a neutral tone and Freddie winced, his perfect teeth showing between his lips. “I'm sorry about the baby.” Helen touched her hand to his arm.

“Oh my” he said. “You know you're the first person to come right out and say it.” Helen looked abashed. “No, no,” Freddie explained. “It's funny. It's like people expect me to carry on as though I didn't care at all, like nothing happened.” Helen was a little taken aback at his forthrightness.

“I'm sure it's really none of my business, Freddie,” Helen said, shifting from one foot to the other. He let out a cynical huff of laughter.

“Everybody says that too.” He looked at her intently and she smiled uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

“I'm afraid I really must be getting on,” she said after a moment. “It was nice to see you, Freddie”

“Helen!” He called as she turned and started down the stone steps. “I'm sorry, I don't mean to be off. Listen!” he said, trotting down after her and catching her by the elbow. “I say I don't suppose you'd like to have lunch with me would you?”

“Oh Freddie, really,” she chided.

“Oh come on Helen, I'm bored to tears being back in London. Won't you take pity on me?”

“Yes I'm sure it's purgatory living at the Savoy. Honestly Freddie you are quite the opportunist you know?” she told him, gesturing at a cab that approached through the slow traffic.

“So is that a yes?” he asked, grinning and Helen shook her head as the car came to a stop. “Go on!” he said in a soft voice and when Helen met his eyes she found it impossible to to say no.

 

Freddie bent her ear amid the tinkling of ivories and the murmur of chatter in the hotel restaurant. Helen convinced herself she was being a sympathetic friend as he told her the sorry story of his short lived marriage although he didn't seem as cut up about it when their legs brushed together under the table.

“So are you going live in a hotel for the rest of your life?” she teased over the remnants of her grilled Sole, leaning back in her chair and sipping a glass of wine. She held onto it in an attempt to avoid Freddie's overgenerous top ups.

“I don't really know what I'm going to do to be honest,” he replied tiredly, scraping his fingernail down the label of the bottle on the table in front of him. “Look, I know how it must seem to you, me living here. It isn't like that really it's just I don't really fancy living with my mother,” he shrugged and Helen smiled.

“And how does it seem to me?”

Freddie coughed and tilted his head to the side, fiddling with the knot on his tie. “Well....” he began but didn't say anything else, just stared at her with that look he'd had in Capri.

“You could just find yourself a flat” she told him, peering over the rim at him before dropping her eyes as she sipped her wine. “Although, I have to confess I do rather like it here.”

“It's not bad is it?” he replied, turning to look over the room and Helen watched at his profile for a long moment and reminded herself that he was really much too young for her.

“Thank you, Helen, for listening to me go on. I'm afraid I've been a frightful bore,” Freddie said apologetically as he escorted her out of the restaurant and into the lobby a little while later.

“Don't be silly,” she said sweetly, squeezing his arm.

“I don't suppose you'd stay for another drink?” he asked her as they reached the foot of the stairs and Helen shook her head stoically.

“No...ah....really I ought to be going,” she said, looking up and finding him gazing at her. He held her gently by the elbow.

“I think you're....well I like you Helen,” Freddie told her wistfully, his face swaying imperceptibly closer. Helen licked her lips and he leaned forward a little further.

“Look, Freddie you're really quite nice and I'm flattered, truly I am,” she explained, stopping him with a palm to the chest.

“But...” he prompted.

“I'm just not really in the habit of going back to gentlemen's hotel rooms, even if they are very handsome,” she said gently and he raised his chin to see the earnest expression on her face. She squinted a little at his smirk.

“You think I'm handsome then?” he asked cheekily and Helen sighed in exasperation.

“Goodbye Freddie,” she said hoisting her bag over her shoulder, her heels echoing loudly off the high ceiling as she walked away.


	9. Chapter 9

Capri 1949

The restaurant was buzzing with life when they entered and they were immediately welcomed by the smiling face of the concierge Angelo.

“Ah my old friends, it's good to see you again,” he told them shaking James' hand a little over enthusiastically before bowing low and kissing Helen's hand dramatically. “I have a perfect table for you!” he cooed and James and Helen shared a look before following him through the crowded room.

Angelo was true to his word and seated them a little way away from the main dining area, just beside the doors that lead out onto the terrace behind. The hint of breeze felt delicious in the stifling heat of the smoky restaurant and Helen was glad for the privacy as they ate.

“That colour really suits you, you know. You look wonderful Helen,” James told her after a while and she gave him a wan smile, her lashes fluttering as she dropped her gaze to her plate, pushing a piece of tomato around with her fork. James set his glass down and chewed on his lip for a moment. “Helen,” he continued softly. “What's wrong?”

Helen forced a smile and raised her head to meet his eyes. “Nothing,” she said, reaching her hand across and placing it on top of his. “Nothing's wrong James,” she assured him but he regarded her sceptically.

“I know you weren't happy with our discussion the other night,” he began and Helen shook her head.

“Really, James, I don't think I have the energy to discuss it right now,” she told him, her voice tight.

“I know you're not happy in London but do you really think....”

“OH MY GOODNESS!” A loud female voice interrupted him and Helen raised her head to see the smiling face of Audrey Sacksville-West standing a few yards away. “Oh how wonderful! Helen! James!” she gushed, stepping closer. “It's so very good to see you!”

“Hello Audrey,” Helen said in a tired voice.

“Freddie said he'd bumped into you but that you had to dash off. I was going to call on you!” Audrey explained as she moved closer, leaning forward to plant loud kisses on Helen's cheeks. Helen graciously received the greeting and ignored the subtle quirk of James brow as she reached up to squeeze Audrey's arms fondly. When she was done kissing Helen, Audrey turned to James who pressed against the back of his chair and stiffly extended his hand towards her, eager to avoid the same fate. Audrey let out a little huff of laughter and clutched at his fingers for a moment. “Oh won't you come and have a drink with us? You remember my son Freddie don't you?” She gestured towards the back of the restaurant and James averted his eyes while Helen smiled politely and Audrey pulled up a chair.

“Oh, dear but it's really been too long! When was it? Thirty Seven? Thirty Eight? And I know Frederick would appreciate the company.” She paused for a moment and when she spoke again it was in a sombre tone. “It's been very hard for him, since he came back. He was in Singapore when they surrendered. He won't talk to me about it but you hear stories, awful stories.” Helen reached out and clasped her hand, nodding sympathetically. “Oh but listen to me harping on. It's not as though we didn't all have to put up with our fair share of misery!” At that, Audrey clapped her hands together and stood up abruptly. “Now won't you come and have some desert with us?”

“Oh Audrey, I'm so sorry, really I am but you see we were just leaving,” she explained and Audrey's face fell.

“Of course,” she answered in an overly chipper tone a moment later. “Oh well, you must come for tea tomorrow! We're staying up in Anacapri these days, we've just come down for dinner with some American friends. Richard Alexander and his wife,do you know them? He's just bought some land on the Piccola Marina, going to build a hotel and they've commissioned me to do the interior design!” she babbled.

“Oh that's wonderful news Audrey. Although I'm afraid we're going to Naples for a couple of days and I'm not quite sure when we'll be back,” Helen lied. Audrey pouted and made a face.

“Oh, oh that is shame. Well, you must call on me when you get back. You are coming back aren't you?” Helen looked at James and there was a tense silence before she replied.

“Yes, yes, of course I'll call on you,” Helen finally conceded and Audrey was happy once again.

“Excellent,” she said, clutching Helen's hand and squeezing it firmly. “We're at the Villa Giovanna, in Anacapri. Turn left past the church and just follow the road all the way to the end. Great orange building, you absolutely can't miss it!” Helen smiled and nodded and Audrey nodded and smiled.


	10. Chapter 10

Capri, 1934

 

Helen walked briskly out of the bathroom as James entered and he paused for a moment to appreciate the view as she stood in front of the wardrobe clad only in stockings and knickers, her long red hair trailing down her back between her shoulder blades. It was starting to curl at the ends despite her best efforts to straighten it with the tongs she had bought in New York the year before.

She didn't seem aware of his presence so he coughed lightly and she turned to peer at him over her shoulder with a look of surprise on her face.

“Oh for heaven's sake, James close the door!” she scolded crossing her arms across her chest and hiding behind the open front of the cupboard.

“Really Helen, that scrap you wear on the beach and now you want to be bashful,” James uttered in a playful tone, shutting the door behind him. Helen glared at him for a second and plucked a hanger out of the wardrobe before walking over to him, the long blue gown trailing across the carpet beside her.

“Look at my face James,” she told him and he raised his chin to find her smirking at him.

“Sorry darling,” he drawled, reaching out and running the palms of his hands down her arms. Helen leant closer and rubbed her nose against his gently and James squeezed her as she kissed him softly on the mouth. He hummed and parted his lips but Helen pulled back and shoved her dress into his chest, chuckling.

“Hold this,” she commanded and James complied as she pulled back and eased the dress off the hangar. She stepped into it, balancing a hand on his shoulder.

“Honestly Helen, no bra?” he asked scandalised and she flicked her hair over her shoulder nonchalantly.

“It would rather spoil the effect,” she uttered, turning around as she slipped her arms into the dress to reveal the low cut that exposed her spine, secretly pleased at the unusual hint of jealousy in his voice. James gaped as Helen glided across the floor to pluck her shoes from the chair, flimsy, strappy things studded with sequins. When she stooped down and shifted her foot into one of the shoes, James was somewhat relieved to see the neckline was modestly high revealing only the barest hint of her collarbone. James gazed at her in silence, the colour of her dress making her eyes seem impossibly blue. A slow smile crept across her face and she stepped closer.

“Helen, you look....” he murmured and she wrapped her arms about his shoulders.

“You know...I could be late,” she began in low tones, a strand of hair falling across her eyes as she tilted her head to one side. James raised his hand and stroked it away, tucking it behind her ear and she leant in and pressed a kiss to his lips. He wrapped his arms around her, his palms brushing the bare skin of her back and she sighed.

“A very tempting proposal but I don't think we have the time,” he told her, extricating himself from her arms. “I can't say as I'm particularly thrilled at all this.”

“I don't much relish the prospect myself but if you can think of a better way to expedite our little visa problem I'm open to suggestions,” Helen replied, a sour expression on her face. “It'll be alright darling, you'll see.”

“If you say so, Helen,” he told her, stepping towards the bathroom and loosening his tie. Helen raised her eyes to glance at the coving around the ceiling.

“If I get into trouble I shall just ask old Monty to expound on utopian symbolism in the new Moscow Subway. That's enough to dampen even the most torrid of passions,” she said with a sigh as the light in the bathroom came on with a click. James harrumpfed.

“Just try not to come home with any more of Audrey's art won't you, Helen,” he replied as the water began to run loudly. Helen ran her tongue over her teeth and stood in front of the vanity table and adjusted her earrings as he continued. “They're so insufferably loud and abstract, it makes me dizzy to look at them.”

“Of course, darling,” Helen said opening a drawer and rifling through for a minute before pulling out a suitable pair of gloves. “You'd rather the walls were covered with dreary watercolours of cows and men with hunting dogs.”

“There is nothing wrong with the English school,” he said defensively from the doorway but Helen avoided his gaze where it was reflected in the mirror, focussing intently on pulling on her gloves.

“It's not the nineteenth century James,” Helen retorted as she tugged the silk down towards her elbows. “Art needn't be a mere representation of reality.”

“Esoteric claptrap,” he groused and Helen snapped her head around to glare at him.

“Charming!” She turned away from the dresser and pulled her shawl from where it hung over the wardrobe door. “If you want to keep the car tonight you'll have to drive me and I'm expected so if you could hurry up please.” James huffed a sigh and his shoulders slouched.


	11. Chapter 11

London September 1940.

 

Helen clutched the strap of her handbag in a death grip, her heels pounding the pavement hard as she strutted down the street. She huffed angrily, muttering under breath as a couple ambled arm in arm along the middle of the path. She paced behind them, trapped by the crowd of people on either side.

“Excuse me!” she snapped, turning sideways and squeezing past.

“How rude!” the woman uttered but Helen didn't bother to apologise merely carried on, stamping ahead. She walked and walked with no destination in mind, the buzz of traffic and the stench of car exhaust doing little to clear her head.

She was waiting behind a crowd of people at the crossing of a particularly busy junction when a woman with a pram stopped beside her. She gave Helen a tight smile and Helen stared down at the gurgling infant before her, clenching her jaw as it cooed at its mother. She shifted from one foot to another, waiting for the lights to change.

Behind her a shop door rattled loudly as two men came tumbling through.

“Jerries. Over Kent I tell you,” one of them uttered in terror and there was a murmur of discontent beside her.

“Jerry's on his way, get on with you people!” the other man barked, waving his hands at the faces turned to gawp at him. Helen met the worried eyes of the young woman beside her, her mouth going dry as she noticed the way her knuckles went white gripping the handle of the pram in front of her. A moment later the sinister dirge of the air raid siren began to whine through the air. A couple of men on bikes came to a stop at the junction, white W's painted on their helmets and the loud blast of their whistles made Helen wince.

Somebody shoved from behind and Helen caught the young woman beside her as she staggered forward.

“Ladies and Gentlemen if you please!” one of the wardens bellowed as the crowd began to mill about in disorder, panic setting in as the drone of planes grew steadily louder. Helen stepped forward and gripped the hood of the pram as a two men barged past and ran across the street.

“This way!” The warden stood on a stone bollard in the middle of the road and began to wave people across.

“It's alright,” Helen said to the terrified face of the young woman, forcing a smile even as her heart began to thud inside her chest. “Come on now.” The woman's lips were a thin line as she nodded her head anxiously and Helen walked beside the pram like a shield as they were bundled across the road by the mass of people around them. She took calming breaths as they went, following the line around the corner to a doorway piled high on either side with sandbags and another uniformed warden directing people inside.

“You'll have to leave that behind, mam,” he told the young woman gravely. “No room.” Helen could see the trepidation on her face and touched a hand to her shoulder. The young woman chewed her lip and let out a stuttering breath, her hands unsteady as she struggled with the blankets covering her baby. The siren droned on and on above them and the warden scowled in irritation as they blocked the entrance.

“His mask,” the young woman stammered. “It's underneath.” Helen nodded and crouched down, reaching her hand into the metal basket underneath and feeling around for the stiff card of a gas mask box. She slipped her fingers under the rim and gripped the hard front of the goggles, pulling it out and shoving the pram behind the warden before turning back towards the entrance.

Helen wrapped her arm around the woman's shoulder and guided her through the door, the gesture meant to comfort her but in truth it was more for Helen than anything. As they descended the steps her gut began to twist sickeningly, the tension hung heavily in the air as they moved down into the dark recesses under the street. Lamps burned dimly as they were ushered along a narrow corridor and into a room. Helen swallowed hard as she took in the rows of anxious faces and she squeezed her arm around the young woman at her side.

Helen stood against the wall as the woman sat down on the last available seat in the room, the warden in the corridor barking at the incomers to move around the corner into the next chamber of the shelter. The rubber of the baby's gas mask squeaked obscenely and Helen watched as its mother tenderly draped it over his tiny body with shaking hands.

The hum of planes was clearer now and in the distance Helen could hear the sound of incendiaries dropping onto the roofs of the buildings above. She pressed her palms against the wall behind her and closed her eyes, jumping at the first titanic boom as a bomb went off somewhere. There was a rally of gasps and groans in the dim room about her as children hid their faces in the shoulders of their parents. She watched an old man twist his cap around and around in his hands, the siren droning on and on and on.

She flinched as a loud explosion rumbled nearby and the ground seemed to shake. There was a hiss and crackle and a tiny fountain of sand spewed out from the top of the doorframe. Helen gripped her skirt in her hands and slowly slid down the wall, pulling her knees up against her chest. She started when a hand touched her shoulder and she turned her head to see the smiling face of the young woman, the baby sleeping soundly in his gasproof bubble. Helen smiled meekly back and waited and waited and prayed for the sound of the all clear.

When they emerged onto the street an interminable time later, Helen stood dumbstruck at the sight before her. Smoke billowed around them, seeming to come from everywhere and the sky was tinged orange from the flames burning in the distance. The stink of burning wood and fabric filled the air and she staggered slightly as people poured out of the shelter behind her. She looked around for her young companion but she had disappeared amid the throng of people and so Helen followed the crowd as it moved in the opposite direction of the carnage, fire engines swarming with black uniformed wardens speeding past, their bells clanging madly.

Dazed she ambled along a street, broken glass strewn across the ground. A man and a woman argued loudly as the man brushed his broom across the pavement, the bristles scratching loudly against the stone and the shards of glass rattling as he swept them into a heap.

Eventually she found herself outside Charing Cross station and coming back to herself somewhat, looked around for a bus stop. She sat at the back near the door and listened to the hubbub of chatter as the passengers talked about the raid. Her feet hurt, she realised, peering out of the window. She watched the buildings slide by until she recognised the neighbourhood and alighted on a corner a few minutes walk from home.

“Dear God in heaven, where the hell have you been?” James bawled, shaking her by the shoulders before pulling her close and hugging her fiercely.

“I...I went...”she stammered but James didn't seem to hear her, just buried his face in her hair and hugged her tightly. They swayed back and forth in the hall and he clasped his palm to the back of her head.

“I didn't know where you were! I've been going out of my mind, oh god, oh Helen!” he rambled but he didn't let her go.

“I'm sorry I ran off like that,” she told him and he pulled back, his face screwing up with emotion.

“Helen,” he gasped. She reached up to stroke her hand across his cheek and he leant forward and kissed her hard.


	12. Chapter 12

Capri 1949,

 

James was silent on the drive back to the villa and Helen watched his profile as he stared ahead through the windshield. He pretended not to notice her looking at him and she clenched her jaw and looked out over the cliff at where the moon reflected off the sea instead, following a ship on the horizon with her eyes until they turned a corner and the view was obscured by a hedge.

“You're angry,” she stated a little while later, standing in the dark doorway of the salon at the villa. James sat heavily in an armchair and roughly tugged a cord from a mahogany box on the floor.

“Why on earth would I be angry with you Helen,” he said in a flat tone as he unbuttoned his shirt and attached the cord to the side of the plate across his chest, the box on the floor whirring to life and a soft tick tick filling the candlelit room.

“I didn't think it was worth mentioning, that's all,” Helen explained, leaning on the door frame and picking at a piece of plaster with her nail.

“Then it probably wasn't,” James responded coolly, loosening the buttons on the cuffs of his sleeves and not meeting her eyes.

“I wasn't on planning on calling on her.”

“Why should I mind if you did?”

“James,” she breathed sorrowfully, stepping closer. “Don't be like this!”

“Be like what Helen?” he snapped and she screwed her face up.

“I didn't know they were here!” she replied defensively but James didn't respond, just fiddled intently with the dials on his chest.

“I don't know why you're making such a song and dance about it Helen,” he said indifferently a moment later, staring across the room avoiding her gaze. She huffed a ragged breath and let her hands fall to her sides, clenching her fists in irritation before stalking across the room towards the stairs. She gripped the banister firmly in her hand and looked at the floor, her hair falling about her face as she took a few fortifying breaths.

“I can't take it any more James,”she began. “This silent stoic BOLLOCKS!” She snapped her head and glared in his direction to see him gripping the armrests hard, his jaw clenched. “Aren't you going to say anything?” she choked a minute later.

James couldn't bring himself to look at her. “I don't know what you want me to say Helen,” he managed around the lump in his throat.

Helen stood frozen at the foot of the stairs. Her jaw quivered and she chewed her lip, feeling unbelievably foolish that after her outburst she couldn't think of the right thing to say, so she said nothing and went to bed instead.


	13. Chapter 13

Verdun-sur-Meuse, France, 1916,

Helen stood beside a small enamel basin scrubbing her nails furiously with a brush, rubbing the stiff bristles against her cuticles so hard it stung. The water in the basin was a bright, scarlet red and droplets flicked off the brush to cling to the whitewashed wall behind. She took loud, shuddering breaths in through her nose, her jaw clenched tightly and her hands shaking. After a few minutes she let the brush fall, knocking against the enamel with a heavy thunk before it slid down into the water and disappeared. Helen slouched forward and pressed her palms flat on the metal trolley either side of the basin and let her head fall forward, screwing her eyes tightly shut. It didn't seem to matter how hard she scrubbed, the blood would not come off.

“You need rest ma chere Helene,” a worried voice told her gently as she stood amidst a throng of nurses a little while later. She pulled her blood soaked apron off and threw it into a heap in the corner of the room.

“I'm fine, Ludo,” she muttered snappishly, not raising her eyes as she twisted her blonde hair behind her head and tied it with a rubber band. The beautiful curls were long since gone, snipped off by one of the nurses, Cecile. The young man heaved a loud sigh and stepped forward, gripping her firmly by the shoulders and in the distance a voice bellowed “L'ARRIVE!!” There was a loud rumble outside, the building shook and the ceiling creaked, dust billowing out from between the rafters as a shell exploded. Helen swayed and clutched at his greatcoat for support.

“I can make it an order, if you insist on being difficult,” he said and Helen raised her chin to meet his sad stare.

“How can any of us rest?” she told him exasperated and Ludo let his eyes fall closed, his head falling forward.

“You can't help anyone if you are dead on your feet Helene. You have not slept in days,” he explained exasperated. “ When did you last eat?” Helen dropped her gaze and stared at the muddy, blood streaked floor behind him, still clutching at his lapels with white knuckles. “Please? That old bouffarde will never forgive me if he knew what a state you get yourself in!” Helen's eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled.

“Alright, I'll go and lie down for an hour,” she conceded and Ludo shook his head.

“Two at least, or I will have you thrown in la boite for insubordination,” he teased and Helen let out a huff of amusement. “Here,” Ludo said, walking across to his where his jacket hung and digging into the pocket. “I was saving this for you.” He pulled out a yellowed piece of paper and Helen watched as he carefully unfolded it to reveal a small heap of brown leaves.

“Oh, Ludo!” she exclaimed, tears pricking at her eyes.

“I think this is perhaps why you struggle huh? You English have tea in your veins instead of blood!” Ludo grinned at her broadly and Helen closed her hand around his and kissed his cheek.

“Where ever did you find it?” she asked.

“I have my sources,” he told her with a wink and stepped back. “Now go, I don't want to see you for at least two hours!”

Helen carefully stowed the tea in her pocket and pulled on her coat. In the hall she dodged to the side as a soldier in a mud soaked uniform hobbled up the corridor, another soldier slouched in his arms with a bloodied bandage taped across one eye. Outside the sky was grey and the air was damp and chilly and Helen clutched the lapels of her coat together as she trotted along the edge of the road. Beside her a platoon of soldiers marched, their boots slapping loudly on the muddy ground and in the distance the guns fired ceaselessly, the air booming with the sound of exploding shells.

She turned a corner and skirted a mountain of rubble, making her way up a street lined with the hollow relics of houses towards the row of tents in the distance. She waited as a dragoon of mounted guards rode past, the horses whinnying in fear at the crackle of gunfire and was just approaching the open door of a tent when a voice called her name. She stopped and turned, squinting as her eyes scanned the crowd of faces that lined the crumbling wall opposite.

“Helene!” the voice called again and as she stepped closer a figure trotted out from the line towards her.

“Henri!” she cried, a broad smile spreading across her face as a young man approached. “Dear God, what are you doing here?”

Henri pulled his cap off and gave her a little bow and she chuckled as he stooped to kiss her hand. As he straightened up Helen regarded him gravely.

“You were conscripted?” Henri shook his head and Helen pulled her chin back in shock. “You volunteered? What happened to conscientious objection?” He shrugged.

“I...when I saw the pictures from the Marne...I had no choice, Helene,” he explained sorrowfully.

“What about Anik? Is she still in London?” Henri nodded and they began to walk slowly.

“Yes she is staying with Audrey. You know Richard was at Ypres,” he said solemnly and Helen chewed her lip. Everybody knew about the gas at Ypres.

“So, I suppose you're off to the front then?” Helen asked, clearing her throat and not meeting his eyes. Henri nodded but then he screwed up his courage and smiled.

“Not for a little while yet. You have some time now?”

“Actually I was just going to have some tea, won't you join me?” she asked and his grin grew wider.

“Didier! Ivan!” he shouted over her shoulder, raising his hands and making some gesture with his fingers. Helen turned to see two soldiers playing cards on the bottom of an upturned crate against the wall and one of them waved before turning back to the game.

 

Inside the tent Helen lead Henri through the slumbering forms in cots towards a quiet corner. She directed him to sit on the bed and pulled a flimsy curtain along a cord to give them a little privacy. Henri coaxed some heat out of a tiny, dented stove on a lopsided wooden table while Helen rubbed two tin cups on her scarf. Henri smiled at her softly and she gave him a wink as she carefully poured the hot water over the tea leaves before placing a half empty tin of boot polish on top while it brewed.

“I think this is a suitable occasion for this,” Henri told her, rifling through his pack and pulling out a tiny foil wrapped package. Helen's eyes went wide and she sank down beside him as he peeled back the wrapper to reveal four squares of chocolate. “Don't mind that, the cold makes the chocolate bloom,” he explained as she examined the white speckles that covered the outside.

“Dear god, that is good,” Helen hummed as she let it melt on her tongue. Henri gazed at her fondly.

“It is good to see a pretty woman smile,” he told her and Helen slapped him on the arm.

“Oh stop it,” she groused and rose to pour the tea. “You can't imagine how much of that I hear. Oh doctor please, if you kiss me I think I might live.” Henri chuckled and watched her intently as she carefully divided the tea between the two cups and turned to rifle around in a tin behind her. “I'm sure I have a sugar cube in here,” she told him over her shoulder.

“Ah ha!” she said victoriously a few minutes later and turned to drop it into his cup. She picked it up and held it out to him only to find him furiously scratching away on a piece of paper, a thin stub of charcoal squeaking between his fingers. “What are you doing?” Henri grinned but did not look up. Helen moved around the table and sank down carefully on the bed beside him. On the paper was a face, a strange primitive sketch with cuboid planes and block features. “Henri!” Helen gasped. “That's...amazing!”

Henri raised his head and smiled, signing the bottom with a flourish before handing it to her. “Promise me you'll let me paint you when we get back to London?” Helen clenched her jaw against the tears and nodded furiously.

 

A hour or so later, Helen bid Henri goodbye and stood in the street to watch as his platoon marched out of the ruined city towards the front. He gave her a wink and a wave before he turned back into the line of soldiers and Helen watched until he was out of sight, pushing away the sinking feeling in her chest. Bracing herself with a deep breath, she shook herself awake and turned back down the road towards the hospital. Overhead there was a deafening squeal and she flinched, everyone in the street ducking against the crumbling walls as a shell flew overhead and disappeared amidst the ruined chimneys to impact with an unearthly din. Helen screwed her eyes shut and her nail broke on a piece of jagged plaster as she gripped at the wall in terror.

A few moments later and she pulled herself upright, staggering forward through the dust and tapping the crouching bodies on the shoulders as she passed. “Are you alright?” she asked over and over as she made her way along the street. In the distance there was screaming and yelling and she turned the corner to see the hospital in flames, a great cloud of smoke belching out where the roof had been. “Oh god!” she cried and ran forward, people milling about in a panic, horses rearing and trying to escape their restraints.

“Cecile! Cecile!” she yelled at the figure of a young woman staggering down the steps into the arms of a solider. Helen barged him out of the way and turned Cecile around in her arms and the young woman blinked rapidly, her eyes blood red and her face smeared with dust and grime.

“I'm fine Doctor, I'm alright,” Cecile sputtered, choking as she gasped for breath.

“Where's Ludo?” Helen asked stretching up on to her toes and scanning the crowd behind. Cecile didn't answer, just swayed in Helen's arms and stared blankly at the button on her coat.


	14. Chapter 14

Capri 1934

 

The mood in the car was somewhat stiff as James drove them across the island through the twilight. As they turned up the drive he peered through the windscreen at the lights on the balcony above, the hubbub of music and chatter drifting through the garden.

“I'm not sure how long I'm going to be Helen. Do you want me to come back?” he asked in a concerned tone and Helen pressed her lips together thoughtfully as she hoisted the hem of her dress.

“No, go home. I'll call.” she said, pulling down the visor and checking her face.

“And if I'm not there?”

“Oh James, don't be such an old woman.”

“Do be careful,” he said tiredly. Helen huffed a breath through her nose before snapping the visor closed and turning to him with a timid smile.

“Don't worry about me darling,” she told him, leaning forward to clutch his arm and pecking him lightly on the cheek. With a conspiratorial gleam in her eye she opened her purse and gave him a flash of the tiny revolver stashed beside her lipstick.

“It's not you I'm concerned about.” As he spoke Helen opened the door and the music became louder. He sighed and Helen gave him a wink before climbing out, her shoes crunching on the gravel beneath. James watched her sashay towards the stone stairs, swallowing back the bile that rose in his throat and waited till she disappeared through the door before starting the engine and driving away.

 

It was excessively loud and unbearably hot in the lounge of Audrey's villa and Helen was glad to feel the breeze as she stepped out onto the terrace. She gripped the iron railing and looked out over the garden and heaved a sigh, stepping from one foot to the other in an attempt to relieve the ache in the balls of her feet. A light came on below and cast a criss cross silhouette on the lush green of the lawn and Helen stared at it longingly.

Five minutes later and she was standing in the middle of the grass barefoot, padding up and down with a look of rapture on her face at the delicious feeling of the damp grass on her tired feet. Her shoes dangling from her fingers, she hoisted her dress a little way and silently crossed the grass to a stone bench overlooking the bay, sitting down with a contented sigh.

“Lovely here isn't it?”

She raised her head to lock eyes with the rather dashing young man she had seen in the pool earlier that day. He looked perfectly at ease in his suit, his dickie bow hanging loosely around his neck and his collar unbuttoned.

“Yes, it's...quite a stunning view,” Helen replied and he smiled and stepped closer.

“Doctor Magnus, if I'm not mistaken,” he said pleasantly, pulling his hand out his pocket and extending it to her. She reached up and he shook her hand gently, his eyes never leaving her face.

“That's right,” she answered politely and his eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned.

“You don't remember me, do you?” he asked and Helen tilted her head to one side.

“You weren't as tall when I last saw you,” she answered mildly, running her eyes up and down his form. “It was quite a while ago.”

“Yes, it was,” he said, sitting down on the far edge of the seat. “I remember it well though. You spent all night dancing with that American chap.” Helen smirked at the memory. “Your husband?”

She chuckled heartily and a line appeared between his brows as he watched her, confused. “Lord no,” she answered and his mouth formed an O. Helen tilted her head and gave him a look.

“And what about old baldy this evening? I suppose he's not your husband either?” he teased and Helen gaped at his audacity. Freddie fairly beamed at her expression. “Ho-oh, don't mind me, I'm just joshing.”

“You are quite bold, young man,” Helen chided but she regarded him with a mild expression and he returned it fondly. He was quite sweet, she mused, if still somewhat babyfaced.

“I'm sorry, Helen....can I call you Helen?” She pursed her lips and stared out at the sea as she considered his request.

“I suppose so....Frederick,” she said a tad icily and he clutched his heart.

“Ouch! You wound me!” he teased. “Nobody ever calls me that! Freddie please!” She fought against the chuckle that bubbled up within in her unbidden. He really was much too charming, she considered as he grinned at her. “So, Helen,” he continued pointedly. “What are you doing hiding out here? Had enough of baldy?” She shook her head.

“You could say that,” she replied non-committally. Freddie regarded her with a quizzical look.

“Hmm, yes he has rather monopolized you this evening. Shame for the rest of us. Although...I suspect that was the point of you coming.” Helen blinked and stared at him, bristling a little at the insinuation.

“What are you implying?”

“Oh come on, gorgeous thing like you with a repugnant old greaseball like that?” he retorted.

“And what about you? Why are you hiding away down here? Why aren't you up there dancing with that sweet young thing that's been hanging off your arm all evening?” she challenged.

“Touche,” he chuffed and slouched back against the bench. “I'm not really in the mood this evening. I confess I had a skinful yesterday. Need a night off.”

“Oh yes it must be quite draining, the endless days by the pool, the never-ending parties,” Helen drawled, idly smoothing down her skirt. He watched her hands, his eyes glued to the glimpse of leg visible through the slit up the side of her dress.

“You've no idea,” he said dryly as their eyes met.

“Freddie!” a girlish voice called from the house and Helen turned her head to see the aforementioned sweet young thing standing on the balcony peering down the garden.

“You've been summoned,” she told him and he heaved a weary sigh.

“Indeed,” he said rising to his feet. “Well, it was a pleasure chatting with you...Helen.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it melodramatically before slinking away up the lawn.

 

A little while later and Helen was repressing a shudder and forcing a smile as the mayor of Capri attempted to swing her about the dance floor, his sweaty hand pressed indecently low on the small of her back. She thought back to her conversation with James in the bedroom and considered that this really hadn't been one of her better ideas. The mayor grinned at her lasciviously and she swallowed hard, hoping he would mistake her grimace for a smile.

“Would you mind terribly?” a familiar voice said beside her and Helen snapped her head around to find Freddie smiling at her beatifically. “There's a good chap,” he blustered and insinuated himself between Helen and her erstwhile dancing partner, gripping her hand and twirling her away across the floor before the old man could protest. Helen heaved a sigh of relief. “Yes I thought you looked rather in need of rescuing” Freddie told her with a grin.

“Thank you,” she uttered, resting her free hand on his shoulder as they danced and noting that he was quite good at it.

“You are most welcome,” Freddie beamed. “So...” he continued after a minute. “You're definitely not married to old baldy there and you weren't married to your gentleman friend back in the day. Does your husband know about all your fancy men?”

Helen stared at him agog and he fairly cackled at the look on her face. “You are too easy to get going, you know?”

“You are quite insufferable!” she retorted.

“It's alright, Helen. I like...passionate women,” he explained wistfully and she shook her head and stared at the ceiling as they swayed.

“Does your lady friend know you are like this? I suppose she finds it charming?” Freddie smiled at her softly but his eyes had a decidedly wicked gleam.

“I can't help it, I've always thought you were gorgeous and now I've got you here,” he told her and she licked her lips. His eyes dropped and he stared at her mouth transfixed.

“I think I might be a bit old for you,” she answered in a teasing tone.

“Hmm,” Freddie mused. “Yes that is something that has vexed me since I saw you this afternoon. I swear you haven't changed a bit in, how long is it? A decade?” Helen did not reply and merely quirked a brow at him. “It's very strange and I can't put it down to beer goggles since I haven't touched a drop all day.”

“Are you like this with every woman you meet?” she queried and he slid his hand a little lower down her back, the pad of his thumb dragging torturously down her spine but Helen found she really did not mind very much.

“Only the desperately beautiful and mysterious ones,” he replied and she huffed with laughter. “What exactly is it that you do Helen?”

“Why I'm a doctor of course,” she told him with a dazzling smile.


	15. Chapter 15

London 1921.

The house was very quiet as Helen hung her coat on the hallstand. The pendulum in the old grandfather clock creaked and she turned to see Nikola standing inside the door watching her with an intense stare. He seemed to glide across the floor towards her and when he came close he hovered beside her, taking shallow breaths that seemed very loud in the silent hall. She blinked and turned away.

“I'm thirsty,” she explained and scurried down the corridor towards the salon. Nikola followed her inside and watched as she filled a glass with soda water. He leant back against the door and it clicked shut behind him as Helen turned to meet his eyes. He smiled gently and she picked up her glass, walking across the room to stand beside the window, silhouetted by the weak light coming through the gap in the drapes.

She started a little when she felt his hand brush against hers, his fingers sliding between her own to rub her palm in slow circles. Helen took a deep breath and let her eyes fall closed, gripping the glass tightly in her hand.

“You're not happy here, Helen,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. “He doesn't make you happy.”

“It's not about being happy, Nikola. There are other things to consider,” Helen said with a sigh. He huffed against her head, rubbing his nose in her hair as his other hand gently gripped her shoulder.

“There's more to life than this old place,” he murmured. “Don't you want to really live?”

Helen stared out of the window at the dark courtyard below and a single tear rolled down her cheek.  
“I...don't know what I want, Nikola,” she told him sadly. “I've seen so many things, so many awful things.” She let her eyes close again and shuddered at the images that flashed behind her eyelids, the booming of artillery echoing around her inside her head and the stench of the lines suddenly rising up like bile in the back of her throat. She gasped and Nikola gripped her firmly in his arms, taking the glass from her hand and setting it down as she turned in his embrace.

Helen buried her face in his neck and he ran his hands up and down her back gently.

“There now,” he soothed. “It's alright.” Helen exhaled a warm breath against his neck and he shuddered, the black tips of his claws jutting out from his fingertips before he calmed himself and they retracted slightly.

“Everytime I close my eyes I see it Nikola,” she confessed. “I see this boy. Both his legs blown away. He just lay there, smoking rollies and he looked at me. Oh the way he looked at me, like I might help him but I couldn't and he just bled to death right in front of my eyes.” Nikola swallowed hard, her heart thudding against his hand where it was pressed against her. “People tell me I should be proud but how can I be proud Nikola?” she sobbed.

“Have you ever told anyone?” he asked a few minutes later and she pulled back, her palms flat against his chest.

“You can't tell anyone Nikola, nobody wants to know,” she said, shaking her head. “God I must be drunker than I thought.” He stroked his knuckles down the side of her face and lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Let me take you away,” he murmured and she twisted her cheek into his hand and pressed a kiss to the pad of his thumb.

“Where would we go?” she said with a sniff and Nikola stood transfixed by her wide blue eyes.

“Anywhere,” he whispered so quietly she barely heard him but then he was leaning close and pressing his lips to hers. Helen moaned and Nikola thought it might be a protest until she snaked her arms around his neck and pressed close against him. He kissed her hungrily, squeezing his arms around her and lifting her easily off the ground to carry her across the room towards the couch.

She took shuddering, hiccoughing breaths as he laid her back against the cushions and ran his hands over her body. “Nikola,” she uttered breathily, a needy expression on her face as she reached up and stroked her hands through his hair. He sat back and let his eyes follow the path of his hands as he caressed down her legs to her feet, slipping her shoes off and letting them fall to the floor with a thud. She trembled and Nikola sucked on her fingers as he stroked back up her thighs and under her skirt.

Helen whimpered as he kissed the soft skin of her inner thigh and raised her hips to let him slide her knickers down her legs, trapping his hand between them as she kicked the scrap of fabric away. “Helen, Helen, Helen,” he chanted as he kissed his way back up her thigh and she gasped, her eyes falling shut as his tongue slipped into the dark recesses between her legs. Her head swam and her back arched off the couch with pleasure. Nikola hummed, or was it a growl, Helen wondered dizzily as his teeth scraped against her skin and a moment later she cried out as they sunk hard into the tender flesh of her thigh.

Afterward, she lay on her back in front of the empty fireplace, looking up at the chandelier while Nikola idly sucked on her shoulder. Helen turned to look at his face as he shifted onto his side and propped up on his elbow. “I've been thinking,” he began, leaning his head on one hand and stroking down her body with the other.

“Hmmm,” she murmured sleepily as he linked his fingers with hers.

“Have you heard of Howard Carter?”


	16. Chapter 16

London, Autumn 1938

Helen, James and Nigel were bickering over some schematics in the study and Helen was about ready to throttle the pair of them when the phone rang. She ignored it for a while until the jarring noise became too much and Helen heaved an irritated sigh, marching over to the desk across the room and hoisting the receiver to her ear.

“Hello?” she uttered tiredly.

“Oh dear, oh dear,” a familiar voice drawled. “It sounds as though you are in need of my immediate assistance, it's lucky I called really.”

Helen narrowed her eyes and looked through the window at the swaying branch in the yard outside. “Is it now?” she replied sceptically.

“Yes, I believe you are suffering from acute boredom. I'm afraid it needs immediate attention or it could be fatal,” Freddie told her in his most serious tone. Helen quirked her lips in an effort not to smile and peered over her shoulder to see James gesticulating wildly over the table while Nigel shook his head vehemently, a sour expression on his face.

“Oh dear, well what would you recommend doctor?” she said in her best approximation of concern.

“I'm afraid you'll have to come down to the surgery, so that I can give you a thorough examination,” Freddie said in a low voice and Helen gasped in surprise, chewing her lip at the hot feeling that washed through her body at his words.

“I see” she asked, turning back to the desk and running her hand along a groove in the wood.

“Right well I shall book you in for two this afternoon, if that's agreeable to you madam?” he chuckled.

“And where exactly is your....surgery... located doctor?” Helen asked sweetly, leaning back against the desk. The sound of his laughter down the line made her mouth curl up at the corners and she pressed her lips together in an attempt to stifle her amusement. She looked across the room at James and Nigel who were bantering in loud voices, apparently oblivious although Helen knew deep down the opposite was true.

“Get the tube to Gloucester Road,” Freddie told her. “I'll meet you there.” Helen licked her lips and rubbed the nail of her index finger against the inside of her thumb.

“Very well, doctor. Two o'clock,” she replied.

 

It was windy when Helen emerged from the underground and she held her hat to her head as she looked up and down the street. She sheltered by a pillar covered with shiny dark green tiles and pulled the lapels of her coat together against the chilly air before checking her watch.

“You're late!” a voice rumbled from behind her.

“Yes, sorry about that,” she said turning to see Freddie standing behind her.

“You don't sound very sorry,” he told her stepping close and giving her a mock glare. He looked very appealing in his long black coat and scarf, Helen mused, his hair sticking up in all directions and the beginnings of a scruffy beard showing on his jaw. “It's cold and I got blown to bits waiting for you!”

“Yes you do look quite like a vagrant. Better not stand too close, people might think you're trying to rob me,” she teased, gesturing with her chin at a policeman walking by. Freddie growled, hooked his arm into hers and marched her out of the station.

“Why do you smell like methylated spirits?” she asked but he didn't answer, just gave her a sideways smirk. “Oh dear, I know the economy's gone to the wall Freddie but I didn't think things were that bad!” she said and he grinned broadly as he steered her down a side road away from the main street. “No really, where are we going?”

“Just wait and see,” he told her.

“I don't really like surprises,” she warned. “I tend to...overreact.” Freddie eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled and he stopped abruptly and clutched her by the shoulders.

“You drive me up the wall,” he exclaimed, leaning his face close to hers for a second before turning her around forcefully. Helen came face to face with a pair of iron gates and let her eyes trail down the path beyond to the door of a block of flats. She gaped as she raised her head up to look at the facade of the building and Freddie leant his head over her shoulder. “Here we are.”

“Oh my, you....”

“Come on, I'll show you around,” he said, grabbing her hand and dragging her down the path.

 

“It's right at the top,” he told her as he lead her up the stairs and Helen craned her neck to look up between the banisters at the coving on the ceiling above. His excitement was palpable and Helen thought he might pull her arm off as he bounded up the steps.

The smell of paint lingered in the air as she stepped into the hallway and Freddie closed the door behind them, ushering her into the living room. “Well? What do you think?” he asked her breathlessly and Helen stood silently taking in the room before her.

“It's....it's very nice, Freddie,” she told him a little apprehensively. He beamed at her, his expression one of earnest expectation.

“I just took possession. I've been working like mad trying to get it ready,” he said, pulling off his coat and dumping it over the back of a packing crate behind him. Helen eyed the paint smears on his sweater and smiled.

“Aah,” she chuffed. “That explains the smell.” Freddie rubbed his hands together and grinned.

“Let me take your coat and we'll christen the place!” he told her, moving behind her and peeling her mac from her shoulders. He laid it over his own and gently moved her aside, stepping back out into the hall. Helen took a moment to look around the room before, squeezing the back of the leather couch in trepidation before following him. As she walked along the corridor she could hear him clanking around in the kitchen and stopped to peer through an open door to see an enormous bed in the room beyond. A cork popped loudly and Freddie appeared behind her, a sheepish look in his eyes.

“Bottoms up,” he said in a low voice and Helen hesitated for a moment before taking the proffered glass. Freddie poured some wine into it and tapped his glass against hers, peering at her over the rim as he took a sip. “Do you like it?” he asked as she took a slow drink of her wine. Helen swallowed thoughtfully.

“I....do,” she said eventually and he stepped closer.

“I'm glad,” he told her, taking her elbow.

“Freddie,” she began, looking at the floor and he leaned very close.

“Yes,” he breathed.

“Freddie, why did you bring me here?” His tongue swiped across his lower lip and his mouth quirked upwards in a nervous smile.

“Well you've been telling me I should find my own place and I just thought...” he told her softly. Helen raised her chin to meet his gaze and his expression made her heart thump in her chest. “I thought...if we had somewhere....” he murmured, licking his lips. Helen exhaled a ragged breath and turned away down the hall. “Where are you going?” he asked gently as he followed her into the living room.

Helen rubbed her lips together and set her glass down on the side before turning to pull her coat into her hands. “I don't think I should be here,” she told him gravely, guilt twisting in her gut when she met his stricken look.

“Wha....I thought this was what you wanted?” Freddie exclaimed, dumping his glass heavily onto the table. He walked briskly towards her, snatching her coat away and grasping her firmly by the arms

“Don't!” Helen gasped, raising her arms but Freddie held her tightly and pulled her close against him.

“I don't understand you!” he cried, pressing his nose against her cheek. Helen turned her face away and gripped his shoulders tightly, squirming in his embrace. “How long are you going to make me wait?”

“Freddie, please,” she choked, her eyes falling closed as his hand came up and he buried his fingers in her hair.

“Why do you go out with me? Why do you keeping seeing me if you don't care about me Helen?” he cried in a desperate voice.

“I can't,” she uttered sadly and Freddie screwed his face up, shaking his head firmly.

“I won't accept it, I know you want me,” he murmured, pressing his lips to hers and she could not stifle the moan than escaped her.

“Please Freddie,” she murmured as he pinned her against the wall and kissed her intently, his hand sliding down her body to cup her backside. She gasped and his tongue slipped into her mouth as he ground against her, hoisting her leg up around his hip. His hand trailed across her thigh, his fingers brushing the lace of her garter as he pushed her skirt higher and lifted her off the floor. Helen buried her hands in his hair, her fingernails scraping against his scalp as he kissed her, a hot bolt of arousal spiking through her body as his hips thrust against her.

“Tell me to stop, Helen,” he mumbled against her mouth, his touch morphing from frenzied to tender as he stroked his fingers across the back of her neck and in spite of everything she found she could not.

 

The wind gusted outside the window and Freddie spooned up behind her as they lay in his big bed some time later. He stroked his hand up and down over her hip until he dozed, his nose pressed against her ear. When Helen slipped out of the bed he rolled onto his back and watched her through his eyelashes as she dressed.

“Don't go just yet,” he murmured sleepily, rubbing his fingers through the line of fuzz on his belly.

“I have to,” Helen uttered, easing her stocking over her knee and clipping it into her garter. Freddie pushed up onto his elbows and stared at her with a dreamy expression and Helen stopped to look at him for a minute, smiling at the way his hair stuck up from his head. He smiled back lazily and she sighed at the impossibility of it all.

As she stooped to pick up her blouse Freddie dropped his legs over the side of the bed and reached for her. “You could stay here with me,” he said, pressing a kiss against her stomach and she stroked her hand across the side of his face. “I bought Orange Pekoe,” he told her proudly and she let out a huff of breath and smiled wanly.

“That sounds nice but I've stayed too long already,” she said gently. Helen chewed her lip and shrugged her blouse down her arms as Freddie drew circles on her lower back with his fingertips.

“What do you tell him?” he asked quietly, pressing his face against her side and staring across the room at nothing in particular. “Doesn't he wonder who you're with?” Helen didn't like to think about it so she didn't answer.


	17. Chapter 17

Capri 1949.

 

Helen tossed and turned in the bed,eventually kicking the sheets down around her feet and climbing out, stalking across the room to scowl at her reflection in the window. She stared across the darkened garden towards the sea in the distance, watching for the wink on the horizon from the lighthouse in Sorrento. She stood for a while absently rubbing her arms and waiting for James but a long time passed and he still didn't come. She was just considering getting back into bed when out of the corner of her eye a small orange glow caught her attention and when she turned her head towards it she saw James pacing up and down the garden, smoking a cigar.

 

When she stepped out onto the terrace a few minutes later, James had disappeared but there was a bottle of Italian brandy without a cap sitting on the step so she padded forward, sank down beside it and took a swig. A minute later she heard footsteps on the scrub and James emerged from the hedgerow and met her eyes with a passive look.

“Midnight stroll, James?” she asked quietly as he stepped closer.

“Hmm,” he replied and Helen pressed her tongue into her cheek before taking another swig from the bottle. James reached forward and plucked it from her hand and stared at her while he took a long puff from his cigar.

“Thought you'd packed that in?” she said quietly.

“I did,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on a point on the wall behind her as he tipped the bottle to his lips. They stayed in an awkward silence for a few minutes until Helen couldn't bear it any more.

“James I'm sorry about before,” she told him, flicking a pebble off the step with her finger.

“Don't be sorry Helen,” he answered and she raised her eyes to see his sad expression.

“I never wanted to hurt you.” James' reached up to pull a piece of tobacco from between his teeth and sighed, moving to sit heavily on the step beside her.

“I know Helen,” he said quietly.

“Do you hate me?” she asked plaintively.

“God no, Helen, is that what you think?” She stared at him with wide, wet eyes.

“I think you must. I've been....I haven't been very fair to you.”

James shook his head and stared down the garden. “We haven't been fair to each other darling,” he said. “I've known for a long time this wasn't what you wanted but I couldn't bring myself to let you go.”

“Oh James,” she began, reaching for him but he twisted his head away, out of reach.

“Don't.”

She clenched her jaw and blinked back a tear. “I do love you, you know.”

“I know you do Helen,” he sighed. “But it wasn't me you wanted.”

“How can you say that? Of course I wanted you.” He laughed bitterly.

“You wanted him, I was just...your consolation prize.” Helen shook her head vehemently.

“That's not true!” James met her eyes with a tired smile.

“I would have married you Helen.” He hesitated for a moment before he continued. “I would have been a father to his child. I wanted it, his perfect little family.”

“I'm hardly perfect James,” Helen said sourly, staring at his shoes.

“No but then neither am I,” he said tapping the metal plate on his chest and grinning at her. Helen huffed out a breath and smiled but she didn't feel it. James expression turned grim. “It was stupid of me to think I could keep you. You were always too wild, too wayward but I couldn't help myself.” He reached forward and stroked her hair away from her face. Helen pursed her lips and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“What are we going to do James?” she asked mournfully as he wrapped his arm around her, but he didn't reply just stubbed his cigar out on the stone and stared at the reflection of the moon on the sea.


	18. Chapter 18

London, September 1940

“I say I'm really rather looking forward to this,” Nigel said happily, gripping the knot of his tie and tugging it from side to side. Helen smiled at him warmly from across the table and idly fiddled with her napkin.

“I know it's a bit of an extravagance all things considered but we couldn't let it go by without doing something,” she told him, looking at his profile as he turned to look through the window, the view of the street obscured by masking tape. “Besides I thought we ought to take the opportunity for a little merrymaking while we still could.”

Nigel pressed his lips together and hummed. “Quite. The papers are full of doom and gloom.”

“I wonder if we ought to feel guilty,” she said meekly and Nigel jerked his chin back a little. “I mean, sitting here enjoying all this comfort when there are shortages.”

“Oh don't let it bother you Helen,” he told her sweetly, placing his palm over her hand. “I'm not.” He flicked a page on the menu. “Anyway if it makes you feel better we'll just have two courses and skip the wine so long as one of those two courses is pudding. That sound suitably austere for you?” She chuckled.

“Sorry, I'm late darling,” James uttered and Helen raised her head as he approached the table looking harried. “Bloody tube, it's ridiculous. Sandbags all over the platform, it's a mess.”

“Oh dear,” Helen said soothingly, glancing over at Nigel's smirking face as she stood and helped him out of his coat. A waiter appeared behind and relieved her of it as he handed James a menu.

“God I need I drink, tell me you've ordered some wine,” he said, pulling his chair in and casting his eye over the menu.

“Actually old boy, we've just put the kibosh on that,” Nigel told him and James gaped.

“What? What sort of birthday party is this with no wine?”

“Honestly James there is a war on you know,” Helen said dryly, fiddling with the corners of her menu.

“So what that means no booze? Don't be ridiculous!” he huffed and Nigel chuckled loudly.

“It was Nigel's suggestion actually,” Helen replied in irritation and James snapped his head around to glare at the smirking man beside him.

“God are you feeling alright?” he asked, slapping his hand to Nigel's forehead hard and shoving him back against the wall behind.

“Oh get away,” Nigel groused playfully, batting his hand down.

 

 

Helen had left the boys discussing James' upcoming trip to Scotland, the purpose being to move as many of the residents of the London house out of the city as possible. She stood for a while in front of the mirror in the bathroom, adjusting her slip where it kept peeking out under the bottom of her skirt. She could hear the clatter of cutlery and the murmur of voices as she walked along the corridor towards the dining room.

“Having a nice time are we Helen?” she heard a voice drawl behind her and she turned to meet Freddie's grim stare.

“What are you doing here?” she asked coolly, her eyes flicking up and down his dishevelled form.

“Having. Lunch.” he responded bitterly. “Moving on. Like you told me to.” Helen glanced over her shoulder through the glass doors of the dining room at the figure of a young woman sitting meekly at a table in the far corner and gripped her purse hard in her hands.

“Well good for you, Freddie,” she breathed, dropping her eyes to the black and white tiles on the floor.

“Not really,” he muttered and her head snapped up to meet his bleary eyes. She chewed her lip for a moment as he stared at her.

“Right well, enjoy your meal won't you,” Helen uttered rapidly, turning to walk away but he stepped forward and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back down the hall.

“Is that all you've got to say?” he sneered.

“Freddie!” Helen cried as he spun her around and pressed her into the coats hanging under the stairs.

“How can you stand it? How can you sit there like that, laughing and smiling and holding his hand?” he gasped, his face screwing up and she squirmed in his arms.

“Let me go, now!” she warned in a dark tone and he met her eyes, bringing his face close to hers.

“I want to kill him,” he breathed and Helen gaped. “When I saw you sitting there together, I wanted to walk up behind him and stick the butter knife in his neck.”

“You're drunk,” she said, shoving him hard and he staggered back a few steps. Helen pulled herself up and stepped forward, intent on escape but he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, tugging her backwards. “STOP IT!” Helen snapped, jabbing her elbow into his ribs and twisting out of his arms but Freddie stumbled forward into her and together they staggered. Helen collided heavily with the banister and she gasped as the wind was knocked out of her.

“I think you like it really,” Freddie chuckled in her ear, a malicious smile spreading across his face as she wrestled with him. “I think you want to make me crazy, that's how you get your kicks, isn't it? ISN'T IT?!” Helen started at the aggression in his voice, stilling in his arms and staring at his face in shock. When she met his eyes his demeanour softened and his face screwed up. “Helen,” he gasped. “Helen,” he repeated softly but she shook her head, twisting her neck around away from him as he chased her with his lips. His breath tickled her cheek as he huffed an angry breath out of his nose. “I'll make a scene,” he threatened. “I'll go in there and kick off.”

“Don't be such a child!" She sneered and dug her nails into his shoulders hard enough to hurt. Freddie clenched his teeth, his lip curling up as he winced. “Let me go now, Freddie,” she growled, staring at him hotly. “I won't ask you again.”

He let out a bark of laughter. “Or what? You'll hit me? Go on, I think I want you to. It's better than have you pretend I don't exist!” Helen stamped her heel down on his toe and he hissed in pain. She shoved him back hard and he knocked into a console table against the wall, a vase of flowers tumbling to the floor and smashing to pieces. Freddie turned his head and stared at it and Helen took advantage of the distraction to strut briskly away down the hall, passing the maitre d' as he stepped through the dining room doors.

The room was unnervingly quiet and Helen hoisted her purse over her shoulder as she strode purposefully towards the table where James and Nigel sat watching her approach with some dismay.

“Is everything alright Helen?” James asked with concern, rising from the table to grip her elbow.

“It's fine, I think I'd like to go now,” she said hurriedly and James jerked his chin back in confusion.

“Ah, alright...I suppose we're done,” he answered meeting Nigel's look of surprise.

“What?” he chuffed in consternation but at that moment there was a loud clatter behind them as the doors to the dining room smacked loudly against the wall and Freddie staggered in, shoving away one of the waiting staff.

“Unhand me, you savage!” he snarled haughtily, tugging the lapels of his blazer together.

“Sir, if you please...” the maitre d' began firmly and Freddie dug his hand into his coat and pulled out his wallet.

“Here you are you bloody parasites,” he barked, pulling out a wad of notes and flinging them unceremoniously at the man in front of him. They thwacked against his chest and fluttered to the floor. The maitre d' wrinkled his nose in disgust and Helen dropped her eyes to the table to avoid James dark stare.

“Who's this joker?” Nigel asked, watching the scene before them. Helen dug into her purse in search of her cheque book but James stilled her movements with a touch of his hand and she raised her chin look at his face, the grim set of his jaw belying his calm exterior as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket.

“We'd like the bill now please,” she said in a commanding tone at a young waiter scurrying by to go to the assistance of his colleagues.

“I'll be with you in a moment, Madam,” he replied absently and Helen gripped the back of her chair and stared at the ceiling. Freddie barged the young waiter out of the way as he stomped angrily across the restaurant and Helen glanced over to see the mortified face of his lady companion in the corner.

“Get away, I'm leaving alright,” he complained, shrugging out of reach of the maitre d' ushering him towards the door. Freddie raised his chin and smiled acidly at James as he neared their table and Helen swallowed hard as James raised a brow in distaste. “Oh how nice to see you Dr Watson. Helen,” he said in a neutral tone, stopping beside her, his gaze frozen on her profile. “I don't believe I've had the pleasure,” he said, reaching across the table and extending his hand towards Nigel. The table squealed against the floor as he leaned across it heavily and Nigel slowly rose from his seat and eyed him sceptically. “Another one of your gentleman friends Helen?” Freddie asked in a mockery of congeniality, straightening up and brushing against her. Helen clenched her jaw and stared through the window, simmering with anger.

“That's quite enough now,” James growled stepping closer and placing his hand firmly on Freddie's shoulder.

“Oh my how chivalrous, defending your honour and all that,” Freddie sneered, jerking away from his touch. “How ironic Helen!”

“Steady on now,” Nigel said stepping out from the table. Helen grabbed her gloves and turned briskly away.

“I hope you're not leaving on my account, Helen, dearest,” Freddie slurred, moving to grab her wrist but she twisted away out of reach. Nigel stepped forward and shoved him out of the way and Freddie balled his fist and brought it up, aiming for Nigel's jaw. Nigel swerved and reached up, catching the blow with his palm. Freddie swayed, drink making him unsteady on his feet and Nigel twisted his arm hard behind his back.

“That's enough now, mate,” he spat and Freddie toppled over and crashed chest first across the table, the sound of crockery clattering to the floor reaching Helen's ears as she approached the door. James sidestepped around the grunting pair struggling over the table and slipped past the maitre d' as he bundled in to help Nigel drag Freddie by the collar out of the back of the restaurant.

The door rattled loudly shut behind her as Helen stepped out onto the bustling street and she began to walk briskly away down the pavement when James called out behind her.

“Helen, where are you going?” he yelled but she ignored him and carried on along the street. “Helen! Damn it!” he said gruffly, jogging up behind her and grabbing her arm.

“Just let me go James!” she cried, spinning to face him but not meeting his eyes.

“Helen....” he breathed. She screwed her face up and shook her head vehemently, taking a step backwards and then another before disappearing into the crowd. James watched the back of her head until he lost sight of her and turned to walk slowly back towards the restaurant.

He was greeted by Nigel's anxious half smile at the door.

“I'll ah....I'll get the car,” he said, handing James his coat.


	19. Chapter 19

Capri, 1949

The wind on the sea was pleasant as James stood on the deck, the motion of the ship barely noticeable as they chugged across the pond like calm of the Tyrrhennian Sea from Capri to Naples. Behind him, over the quiet drum of the engines Helen's shoes tapped on the wood as she approached and James turned to see her walking towards him across the deck with a bottle and two cups.

“Peace offering,” she murmured as he took it from her and gave him a tight smile. When he didn't return it she sighed and her shoulders sagged. “You're stuck on this tub with me for the next few hours, James.”

He twisted the cap and flicked it over the side, letting his gaze drift along the Italian coast for a minute before his eyes came to rest on her face. Her hair was whipping about in the breeze and he reached a finger to pull away a strand that had stuck to her lip.

“I was thinking,” he began and Helen chuffed in amusement.

“I've heard it's something that you do,” she teased and he curled his lip in a ghost of a smile.

“I think we should have the villa signed back to you, instead of us both,” he continued and Helen opened her mouth and then closed it again. “I can't imagine I'll be coming back here, not without you at least.”

Helen grimaced and held the cups as he poured, the water fizzing as it ran from the bottle. She watched the foam recede and pursed her lips.

“It's not like you're never going to see me again James,” she said sadly.

“Still, I...I don't want it. I bought it for you anyway,” James explained taking a long drink.

“I don't know what to say James,” Helen confessed. “I can't imagine coming here without you.”

“You'll become accustomed to it I'm sure.” She snapped her head up and met his eyes. “Come on Helen,” he mocked. “You've got it all planned out, your new life, your new Sanctuary.” Helen didn't respond, just stood beside him holding her cup tightly and staring at the loose knot of his tie.

“I can't stay in London any more James,” she said after a while. “I walk down the street and I barely recognise it.”

“Things change Helen and so do people. You don't need to explain.”

“It doesn't feel like home any more.” She turned the cup around and around in her fingers.

“You don't need my permission, Helen. I'm not your husband or your keeper. You're your own woman. You always were,” James said, staring past her shoulder at the blue sky beyond. Helen's mouth turned down at the corners and she stared at her hand as it trembled. “No, when we get back to London.....” She raised her eyes to his face and he licked his lips, trying to avoid her gaze.

“I'll miss you,” she uttered but James didn't respond. He turned to drop his cup into the trash and walked away across the deck. Helen watched his retreating figure disappear through a door and stood for a long time, gazing out across the mild swell of the Tyrrhenian sea, the gentle slough of the waves against the hull and the low hum of the engines in her ears.


End file.
